Culpeper’s not that far. I can call my brother or sister to come get me.”
“And miss my big chance to grill you all the way to your place? No way. I want to hear every detail.”
“Do you have any info on the device yet?” Isaac asked.
“Other than the fact it was an amateur job, not really. We’ll be sending the remnants to Quantico for analysis.”
“I guess that’s better than deciding it was made by an expert.”
Isaac’s gaze drifted aimlessly as he mulled over his own observations at the blast scene. Movement caught his attention. He froze, nudged the captain and pointed at the feet and ankles visible on the opposite side of the cubicle’s curtain.
Gavin McCord moved silently, swiftly, to yank away the cloth barrier. A woman gasped. Covered her mouth with her hands. The nervous nurse had been eavesdropping on their discussion!
Both officers stared at her, not speaking.
“I—I was just waiting to finish that bandage,” she said, hurrying to Isaac’s side and pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “I take it you’re through talking.”
“For now,” Isaac said, turning to his boss. “I’ll meet you outside when I’m done here, Gavin. Will you take care of Abby for me?”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll get your boot, too.”
Isaac tried a slight smile to see if it would relax his nurse. “Is it still a madhouse of reporters out there?”
She nodded, yet didn’t meet his gaze directly.
“That reminds me of another thing that struck me as odd,” Isaac told his captain in parting. He knew McCord was friendly with Jeffries but he just had to ask. “What made Congressman Jeffries decide to call a press conference so late?”
“He says he decided to go public because his pet anti-crime bill was coming up for a vote in the morning.”
“He couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”
“Apparently not. He was allegedly proving to his constituency how much that bill is needed to keep DC safe.” McCord touched the brim of his cap and picked up the beagle. “Take your time in here. I’ll be waiting outside, asking questions and listening to rumors.”
Isaac lay back and let Daniella work on his leg, noting her unsteady fingers. As soon as she stripped off her gloves again, he reached for one of her hands.
“You can tell me,” he said tenderly.
She pulled away. “Tell you what?”
“Why you’re so afraid.”
He thought she was going to leave the room without replying until she said, “I just hate bombs, that’s all. They’re so indiscriminate. So lethal.”
“This one wasn’t much, if that helps any.”
“People were still hurt.” After a barely perceptible shiver she continued. “The doctor has released you. You should see your family physician for a follow-up in a few days. Watch for redness, swelling or discharge from the wound and keep it clean and dry.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I walk without crutches?”
“Your leg will hurt more in a few days than it does now but walking won’t do any more damage, if that’s what you’re asking. The injection we gave you will get you home tonight. After that you can take one of the pills in this envelope every four to six hours or switch to over-the-counter painkillers. Just don’t double up.”
“Anything else?”
“I would say, ‘Get a different job,’ but I can tell that’s not an option for a man like you.”
“A man like me? What kind would that be?”
“One who’s strong-willed and sure of himself, a person who never wastes time rehashing the past and thinks he’s invincible.”
“Maybe I really am,” Isaac teased.
The heartrending look in her emerald-green eyes penetrated his defenses despite his strong resolve. It had been a long time since he’d seen that much poignancy and sorrow in a person’s gaze.
This shy, quiet woman had given his heart a twist without saying a word.
* * *
Daniella was in no hurry to return to the hospital’s common areas, where she could be spotted. Yes, her father’s promised vendetta might have vanished with the passage of years but she wasn’t willing to take that chance. As her US marshal handlers had warned, leaving the witness protection program was not optional. Once you were in, you stayed. Period.
“Which is the whole point,” she murmured. “Having a long and happy life.” It was only at times like tonight, when violence brought her past peril to mind, that she fretted so uncontrollably.
Hurrying through the halls, she had almost gained sanctuary when she was paged to go back and assist another doctor. The way she saw her predicament, all she had to do was reach that particular private exam room without passing any nosy reporters or photographers who might inadvertently broadcast her picture and cause untold damage by revealing her hidden identity. Under normal circumstances it would not have been difficult to dodge them. Given the presence of the congressman and his entourage, plus the press corps, moving around in the ER could prove tricky.
Daniella grabbed an extra clipboard, held it beside her cheek to mask her features and hurried toward her new assignment. She was looking ahead so intently she missed noticing a dark-haired figure to her blinded left. She and the muscular man came together with a thump and he grabbed her.
It was all she could do to keep from screaming.
“Hey, settle down,” he said. “It’s me, Isaac. Are you okay?”
His voice sent tingles racing from the arm he was holding all the way to her toes. Regaining her balance, she helped steady him in return.
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you. I thought you’d already left,” Daniella said.
“I was trying to catch up to you and thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome. Just doing my job.”
Before the K-9 cop could reply, she was blinded by an intense flash of light and someone shoved a microphone in her face. “Are you working on the congressman?” a reporter demanded. “Did he really have a heart attack? What’s his prognosis? How soon can we see him?”
Isaac’s immediate intervention—his arms outstretched and his badge in hand—sent the crowd back a few steps, providing an escape route for Daniella. She held the clipboard between herself and the others and ducked in the exam room door, slamming it behind her.
Her back pressed against the door. She fought to see through the orbs of color that danced in her vision after the camera flashes.
“Over here, Dunne,”
